Life. Love. Liturgy. - Thealogical Lady: A Blog

How does it feel?

6/10/2017

I shared the ordo of my Strawberry Moon Thean Eucharist at a friend's request, and he asked me afterward how it felt during and after that liturgy.

For a bit of background, allow me to say that my Thean Eucharist has evolved a great deal over the last two and a half years, so much so that we stopped doing Eucharist for a while because my thealogy had changed so much from its Christian roots.

But this was the response I offered my friend, and I believe it sums up what I value most about Theanism:

Our only light was what remained outside (which wasn't much) and the lone candle that we lit. The lighting of the candle hushed them. Nearly everything I did from that point forward brought forth a torrent of questions, mostly from A. M couldn't participate as well as A could with the parts involving reading. Both of those things left me with a little frustration. That being said, I felt this extraordinary calm and joy as we moved through the liturgy. It was so familiar and yet so fresh. It felt a bit like being at a wedding, or a funeral, or a baptism--it was rich with meaning and charged with the shaping of identity. It felt important and weighty, and I felt alive and at home right where I was, doing what I was doing, sharing and helping shape the story of me and my girls with them. It was as poignant as any liturgy at my old parish back home, and even more poignant than Thean Evening Prayer has been. Perhaps that was the case because my daughters were at the center of it and I could see them, or at least A, making connections and sorting out what it means to be of Thea and to regard all the rest of the world, including those we find difficult to love, as part of Thea.

Making connections between the narrative one hears and one's role in it, and to tell a narrative that empowers a person to shine in ways she never realized she could, is what it's all about for me. To be able to do this with others--particularly my own daughters--to observe them making those connections, and to watch them practice their unique power by being agents in the liturgy we share, is about as near to ecstasy as I've come.

The practice of engaging in liturgy with my girls feels like one of the most important tasks I could ever undertake, because this liturgy as I've shaped it encompasses what I value (and want to pass on to them) most. I want them to break bread with others. I want them to pray, whether that prayer centers them or gives them something to argue with, or both. I want them to be confident storytellers, and I want them to know they have the right to shape the stories they tell. I want them to know the extraordinary relationship between light and shadow without glorifying one over the other. I want them to know that they are, as much as any other part or person of the world, of Thea, of the stars, of the glory of this beautiful universe.

I loved it. ♥

When light and shadow unite

5/6/2017

This evening I arrived early at Pathways of Grace to set up for Thean Evening Prayer, and I found a complimentary copy of Kissed by God - Holy Women Create! by Shirley Cunningham waiting for me. I flipped through it, sipping images and sampling stories of biblical and spiritual female leaders from the Jewish and Christian worlds. A short piece of mine was included at the very end of the book about the woman at the well who encountered the Christ. My breath caught as I read it.

I wait, preparing to make my hasty retreat, wondering if my bucket can help me fend him off if he tries to attack me. He doesn’t move. He continues to look at my face, as if I am the living well and he is refreshing his parched lips and mouth with the story of my life. He takes time, setting aside his ego to make space for my story—and then he tells it to me as he has perceived it.

This--the experience of having another take the time to absorb my story with openhearted love and non-judgment--this is the moment when light and shadow unite. And this is the moment of ecstasy, of knowing that I am beloved, exactly as I am.

I considered this as I led prayer this evening. When I was Christian, in recognizing that I was the beloved, I understood myself as being in an ongoing process of becoming united to the source of my longing and fulfillment, to the Holy One.

As a Thean, I reocognize that I have always been united to the Holy One--not because of baptism, not because of belief, but because I am of her. What a strange and surprising thing it is, to spend one's life seeking what one yearns for, only to discover that what one yearns for has been within oneself all along.

It took thirty-three years for me to realize that my pining was not for the one just beyond my reach, who complemented me but was decidedly not me. My pining turned out to be for the one I beheld in the mirror, the one whose hands and feet and eyes and voice were the instruments of my muse, my author, myself. I am united to Thea, not because I was ever separate from her and then did what was required to become one with her, but because I am her handiwork, and my flesh is her flesh.

Tonight I prayed the psalms and was reminded that Thea's body is nothing more or less than creation. I am the one I seek, and the one I seek is likewise in every other creature I will ever meet--in my beloved husband, in my darling children, in my despised enemy, in the cascading waterfall, in the unmoved mountain, in the cocooned caterpillar. To recognize Thea in myself is to recognize her in all the world, and that is reason for pause. If I trust that my light and shadow are beloved, then it follows that the light and shadow of all beings, animate and inanimate, are also beloved.

What a challenge that is to accept. And what a wonder. It's so easy in daily life to give in to the temptation to dismiss others--and yet those others are made of the same sacred starstuff I am.

And so I wondered, long after I was left alone at Pathways of Grace this evening, what it would take to love others in the way I've learned to love myself, my beautiful, broken, vivacious, imperfect, holy self. And I wondered if perhaps I'm still clinging to the idea of a holy other whose job it is to be available to the one whose yearning runs deep, when all I need to do is look in the mirror to see where love begins and ends.

Meeting Thea in Death

4/27/2017

My daughters faced a great and difficult milestone today: they faced the death of their first pet.

Technically, she was my oldest daughter's first pet. She was a betta (a trans-betta, if you wish; although she was among the male bettas at the pet store, my daughter quickly informed us that her new fish had told her she was a girl, and her name was Princess Amanda). She was gorgeous, too, all shimmer and irridescence in her royal blues, green, and violets. She was also spunky, zooming around her new fish bowl, which was, among other things, a one-eyed pink monster with bat wings and fangs.

My older daughter was vigilant in feeding and caring for Princess Amanda, especially after we warned her not to over-feed her. When our younger daughter, attempting to be helpful late last week, fed Princess Amanda a handful of betta food pellets, my hubby ended up scooping out over a dozen of them, and he and I both knew immediately that Princess Amanda might not make it.

It took several days, and we wondered at moments if maybe she would pull through. But she stopped eating, and only moved around to break the surface now and then for a bubble of air.

When we got home today, I found her unmoving at the bottom of her fish bowl. She was lying sideways. That's the moment I knew. I told my hubby, but neither of us was ready to tell our daughtrs. I waited till he had departed for an evening engagement. I fed them mac and cheese, and I waited. When they were done eating, I told them Princess Amanda had died, looking directly at my eldest as I said it. Shock, then grief, clouded her face. She got up to look at her fish. She had to see for herself; how could she take my word for it?

The next few minutes were minutes filled with tears and sadness and anguish, for both my daughters. I walked with them to the couch, and I held them close to me as they sobbed. I felt their grief and held it close, sharing their bitter cup.

Then I invited them to honor Princess Amanda by burying her in the earth. We moved her from her fish bowl to a smaller bowl, one that my oldest daughter would be able to carry with ease. We dug a shallow hole in the earth on the perimeter of our back deck. My oldest carried Princess Amanda; my youngest carried seeds that she and her sister had chosen. I carried fertile soil. Anastasia poured Princess Amanda and the water that surrounded her onto the earth she had chosen. Then she and her sister poured soil over her, telling her as they offered the soil what they loved about her. Then my girls scattered tiny carrot and tomato seeds over her, and I added a tiny layer of soil over the seeds to protect them with dark, nourishing moisture. And then my oldest daughter placed one of her prized rocks on top of the burial mound we had created. As all this took place, we talked about the circle of life, of being born, of dying, and of new life emerging from death. We talked about Princess Amanda's life, and how her body would become part of the nourishing soil that would help our seeds grow.

After the burial had concluded and some minutes had passed, I offered my Thea necklace to my oldest to wear as a comfort. She offered it to her sister a few minutes later, who's wearing it now for that same purpose.

Thea is the one who envelops my family with understanding and tears in this shadowy quiet. She is the one who is mourned as my daughters and I mourn the one we love, and she's the one we anticipate as new life emerges from what we have planted.

Blessed be the one we loved, we love, and we will forever love. ♥

Good vs. Bad

2/7/2017

I took part in my first local Christian Sunday liturgy for the first time in two years this past Sunday. I walked in late to the early liturgy at the little church on my way to downtown Phoenix, the homily already underway.

The preacher was in the middle of speaking about the difference between good liturgy and bad liturgy. Bad liturgy, he said, was the sort of liturgy we do--actions and intentions all woven together--for our own ends, so that we may personally benefit from it in the ways we see fit. Good liturgy, on the other hand, is the sort of liturgy we do for God's sake, for God's ends. I saw where he was going, especially from a political standpoint, because it seems that in this country, at this moment in history, far too much is being done for self-aggrandizing, self-benefiting ends, while the ends that matter from a certain Christian perspective--clothing the naked and feeding the hungry--go unnoticed, even though these are, from this perspective, God's ends.

What I noticed as this preacher went on was the absolute divide he made between God and human beings, God's ends and human ends. That divide is, perhaps, why Jesus, who is said to be both human and divine, is such a miracle. For me as a Thean, however, I cannot thealogically claim such a definitive divide between God and what she has made.

As I encounter her, Thea is an author. As I encounter myself and others, we are and are becoming are her evolving masterwork. Thea is not done with her masterwork, it seems to me, and even if she were, her work would be no less part of her. She may be distinct in some sense from her work, but her work is of her, and she of it.

I say this because of my own experience just today as I picked up my first novel, Memory Stands Still, and marveled as I read it. My novel, my words, my stories, are of me. Writing this and other stories has changed and revealed me. One could claim on some level a divide between me and my art, but I would argue--and so would many around me--that my art, like my dreams, reveal the deepest parts of myself. One may talk of Thea, God, apart from her masterwork, but what would one say of her?

One might answer that one would say nothing, and that that would be the best way to honor Thea, who is ineffable. And that would also be correct.

The grace and beauty of Thea is that there are many ways to behold her, to perceive her, to encounter her. As a Thean, I encounter God incarnate in every person, every creature, I meet--every one, without exception. For me, Thea is revealed not as absolute other, but as author of and the very stuff of creation. Thea's masterwork is Thea herself. The radical thing about Theanism is that there is no encounter one can have that is not encounter with Thea. My ability to perceive her in the one who wounds me and wounds others may be limited, but she is present and enfleshed in the meanest and kindest of all of us, in the messy complexity of every one of us, including myself. That is what makes the radical divide between good and bad too facile; it implies that God can be here and not there, and the truth, at least of my experience, is that God is in and of all of it. We the universe are Thea figuring herself out, and singing beauty--in all its difficulty and breathtaking loveliness, into life. We who are Thea are both good and bad, and Thea's intentions, Thea's ends, are very much our own, and ours hers. What this means is that Thea doesn't always get it right--we, you and I, don't always get it right. But we, her creation, her Sacred Body, her hands and feet, are moving, one must hope, in the direction of greater understanding, beauty, and love, for that is her, our, end.

In other words, I don't believe human ends are so very different from Thea's, despite the evils, hatred, and selfishness that run rampant in our world. What I do believe is that it's easy for every one of us to lose sight of what is most important and life-giving in our daily lives for the sake of accomplishing the goals we've chosen to set for ourselves. There is not one person in the world who has not done harm to another while attempting to do what they believe is good, right, or worthwhile. There is not one person in the world who has not engaged in what is selfish while wanting to help others or make a positive difference. Good and bad are woven together, and there is no unweaving them.

But this is not reason for hopelessness. It is reason for relief, I believe--relief in the ability to be honest, to assess ourselves and one another frankly and with tremendous compassion, to choose to hold together rather than attempting to tear apart what cannot be divided neatly into compartments. From my Thean perspective, there is no way to achieve "pure goodness," because there is no such thing. There is, rather, a journey for each of us, a journey with many possible directions, setbacks, and ecstasies. We each have steps of our own in the cosmic dance. We each have our harmony, our solo, our part in the symphony Thea composes and performs in this very moment.

What I would like to suggest is that perhaps, instead of pointing fingers at what or who is good or bad, that it is time to set aside our assumptions and judgments aside for a while and focus instead on what we live for: loving and drawing out the best in one another, starting with the one we see in the mirror. For we are worth our great efforts to love. We are Thea, and love is the masterwork we are, have been, and are becoming.

Trimming the Hearth, Setting the Table

12/4/2016

Today marks the second week of Advent on the western Christian calendar. One of my favorite four-part Advent hymns, which I first encountered during my time in theology school at Collegeville, was "People, Look East" by Eleanor Farjeon:

People, look east. The time is near
Of the crowning of the year.
Make your house fair as you are able,
Trim the hearth and set the table.
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the guest, is on the way.

Furrows, be glad. Though earth is bare,
One more seed is planted there:
Give up your strength the seed to nourish,
That in course the flower may flourish.
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the rose, is on the way.

Birds, though you long have ceased to build,
Guard the nest that must be filled.
Even the hour when wings are frozen
God for fledging time has chosen.
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the bird, is on the way.

Stars, keep the watch. When night is dim
One more light the bowl shall brim,
Shining beyond the frosty weather,
Bright as sun and moon together.
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the star, is on the way.

Angels, announce with shouts of mirth
Christ who brings new life to earth.
Set every peak and valley humming
With the word, the Lord is coming.
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the Lord, is on the way.

As a Roman Catholic growing up, my experience was that hymns were kept to a strict three verses, or two if the nave wasn't long enough to make a generous procession. As a theology student preparing liturgy, however, my fellow liturgy students and liturgical music instructors and eventually I harped (so to speak) on the importance of singing a hymn from start to finish. Even though young ones might fidget and knees might be ache, a hymn deserved its full run. One wouldn't recite several verses of a poem and leave out the rest at a poetry reading, after all.

This hymn in particularly strikes me, because apart from the final verse, it is not explicitly Christian. Metaphors give color and texture to the mystery that is revealed in the final verse: the Christ, the Savior, the Light of the World, is on the way. How hopeful that is. And our job?

Trim the hearth and set the table.

I always remember this line as "sweep the hearth and set the table," because the sweeping is as integral and exciting as the trimming--one wouldn't normally trim a space without first clearing, organizing, and putting away the old to make way for what is coming.

I've thought of this hymn often in the last several months, particularly as I have prepared sacred space for my women's circle. We pray Thean Evening Prayer together and follow it with yummy food and conversation, and my preparation for this time together is diligent. I want every piece of it to be ready. Not perfect--perfection is not necessarily a virtue to my mind--but ready, which is to say thoughtfully, fully, and thealogically prepared. My role is to make sure that the hearth is trimmed and the table set. I am to ready the way for the guest, the rose, the bird, the star. The women I meet are each of these; the women I meet are the incarnate presence of Thea.

My circle met yesterday evening, and on my journey home I cried tears of gratitude and sang a new song:

For Rhonda
For Kelly
For Jessica
For Melani

Thank you, O Thea,
for these, your Icons:
for blessing me with your Presence

Over and over I sang my gratitude. I considered adding my own name, in honor of my own identity as Theatokos, but I did not. My gratitude was all for these women who did what I am incapable of doing alone: rendering my burgeoning, solitary Thean faith communal.

"People, Look East" invites those who sing it to do the same: to prepare for the unarrived to arrive. Folding one's arms and shutting the door with firm resolve might be simpler and require less effort, but Advent invites us to prepare for something and someone new, something and someone of genuine and ultimate concern. What and whom do we await? And how will that one manifest? Are we ready for the visitor who will arrive at last, changing us as we gather in circles of love, revealing the presence of the Holy in all its imperfect, unexpected, wonderful glory?

Shared Leadership

10/24/2016

Painting by Amanda Petersen

This weekend I had the opportunity to share leadership with a number of deeply spiritual, curious, wise people--all of whom happened to be women. Pathways of Grace in Phoenix, founded and led by Amanda Petersen who is a UCC minister, was celebrating its tenth anniversary as a spiritual life center. Amanda invited me to lead Thean Evening Prayer to begin the celebratory weekend, which I gladly did.

Through the course of the weekend, as prayer, events, talks, workshops, meditation, and conversation took place, I got to know about a dozen women, nearly all of whom are leaders within their respective spiritual contexts. We represented UCC, Methodist, Lutheran, Catholic, Episcopalian, Thean, Buddhist, and Pagan faith traditions, and we listened to one another and talked lovingly with one another about how those traditions shaped us, and how we in our own ways shaped and reshaped them. The tone of the weekend was neither hierarchical nor dogmatic. We were many spiritual journeyers sharing leadership that we might learn from one another while journeying side by side.

I spoke with a dear friend about it afterward, and one of the comments she made was that she forgot that Arizona is a relatively conservative place overall, religiously/spiritually speaking. That is part of what makes Pathways so special, especially to me. It is a safe haven for exploring what is often forbidden (anathema sit) or frowned upon by mainstream religion. It is a place where, for example, prayer to the Divine Feminine can happen in the feminine voice, without critical, dismissive, or glaring glances from others in the room. It is a place where, for example, women can speak up and out freely without being talked over by male clergy (or men in general). It is a place where every person's voice and body and experience is recognized as a bearer of deep wisdom and limitless value--not just those of male persons.

I laugh a little, remembering that my spiritual director, a female Episcopalian deacon, began recommending that I attend workshops at Pathways a year and a half before I finally decided to set foot there. As it turns out, I probably wouldn't have been ready to accept the graces of Pathways when my spiritual director first mentioned it to me. I am ready now, however, and I find myself filled with gratitude for this oasis in the desert.

This weekend I sensed the stirrings of new life preparing to burst forth, not only in the individual experiences of me and the others who took part, but in our shared experience of giving birth to community this weekend. I believe that Pathways of Grace, and other small, welcoming-without-requirement spiritually oriented communities like it, are a model of what spiritual community will look like in the future. There will be options more than demands. There will be exploration more than assimilation. And those who choose spiritual practices and concepts will do so in freedom and love, not fear and guilt.

I look at Pathways of Grace, and I see a lovingly worn labyrinth with many twists and turns, all leading to the Divine one who is at the core of the universe, at the center of each of us.

Blessed be. ♥

Mystagogy - Thean Evening Prayer

9/4/2016

Last night was a turning point for me: for the first time, I brought my ministry as a Thean priestess out of the privacy of my family's house church and into the public realm, leading Thean Evening Prayer at Pathways of Grace in Phoenix.

My vision for Thean Evening Prayer was simple: it would be an intimate gathering for those who identify as women to pray together to God in their own (female) voices using feminine images for God and imagining God in relationship to Creation through a feminine, feminist lens.

When I arrived, my dear husband helped me arrange the space the way I wanted it, and then he departed so I could pray before others arrived. At 5:00, the time when prayer was set to begin, I was the only person in the room. I continued to pray, and as I prayed, I was surprised by the awareness that I actually wasn't alone--I was in the company of thousands of generations of women, women who had come before me, who had refused to be silenced or disempowered by oppressors, women who had imagined themselves and their God the way they chose, women who had loved, created, mentored and empowered girls and women within their influence. All their efforts, all their willingness to stand up for themselves, all their willingness to make a difference when they were told to shrink and be quiet--all of that energy had culminated in this moment, this hour, in which I was able to embrace my public ministry as a spiritual leader, a Thean priestess, a woman who wouldn't settle for the oppression that would seek to rein me in.

I knew going into the night that several women who wanted to pray with me were out of town. I knew also that several women who had wanted to pray with me had something come up at the last minute. I prepared to pray with my cloud of witnesses. I waited. Then a familiar face arrived, a woman who had prayed with me at our former Episcopal parish in Tempe, a woman who was preparing to lead her own spiritual circle for women. We hugged, we talked for a few minutes, I showed her around the rooms of Pathways of Grace, and eventually we settled into our seats to pray. I sounded the singing bowl four times. We stood, and I intoned a invitatory that I had learned years ago at my Roman Catholic parish in Cleveland, the same parish that ignited my love for liturgy: Let my prayer arise like incense in your sight, the lifting of my hands a sign of trust in you, O God. She joined with me in singing, and we sang it several times, letting the words soak into the space and ourselves.

We prayed the psalms next--Psalm 141, from which the invitatory came, and then a series of other psalms. Between each psalm there was a pregnant, full silence. At one point, I held my breath in between verses to keep my voice from breaking and tears from falling. Next time--next time I will let them break and fall.

At the conclusion of the psalms, we moved to the homily. I explained that in the Christian (and particularly Benedictine) tradition, Saturday night evening prayer was a big event, because it was the vigil for Sunday, the most important day of the Christian week. Saturday evening prayer was therefore when a homily was given, at least in communities that prayed together the liturgy of the hours every day. I noted that the homily would traditionally be given by the presider in top-down fashion, the presider imparting (his) reflections as seeds to be planted in the hearts of those around (him). Then I explained that in the case of Thean Evening Prayer, the homily was open to every person present, because a key Thean belief is that every (woman) has deep wisdom to share. So we shared the homily based on phrases from the psalms that had particularly resonated with us. Our homily was a mutual conversation in which we listened to one another and sounded/heard our own voices, recognizing that Thea's voice resounded through each of us.

I don't know how much time passed--time felt as though it was suspended, but I know from the content of the conversation that it must have taken a while. When the homily had reached an end, I turned to the next portion of evening prayer: the anointing. A bottle of oil stood on the little altar before us. I removed the glass stopper and poured a small portion of it into a glass bowl, inviting my praying partner to partake of it. I spoke of olive oil as an ancient healing balm, but I also spoke of it as the stuff with which royalty, priests, and prophets were anointed. To partake of scented oil is a sign not only of healing, but of empowerment and authority, specifically the power and authority to speak and act as one deems fit and wise. I said that it was particularly poignant to anoint the parts of ourselves for which we seek wise power and authority: the eyes, the ears, the mouth, the nose, the hands, the heart. My prayer partner and I dipped our fingers in the oil and rubbed the rose and clove scents into our skin, and then prayed Psalm 45 from the Thean Psalter, which included verses like, "You, a woman, are among the wise ones; grace flows from your lips," "Your leadership shall endure, for you love goodness and reject unkindness," and "Thea anoints you with the oil of gladness."

Thus empowered, we prayed together for those all around us, and lifted up personal prayers of our own. Then we stood and prayed a modified version of the Lord's Prayer called "Our Mother," written by Miriam Therese Winter of herchurch in San Francisco. We concluded with a collect prayer and this blessing:

May Thea bless us with courage,
guide us with her unrelenting love,
and empower us to answer her sacred call. Amen.

Our time together was not over--we stood, moved to the other side of the room, and talked over a small spread of food and bubbly water I had brought to share. We talked about our experiences, our faith, our friends, our leadership, our children, and our lives. We talked and talked until suddenly it was nearly 7:00--between the two of us and the cloud of witnesses that surrounded us, we had spent the two hours for which I had reserved the space.

I feel full: full of gratitude, full of joy, full of wisdom, full of holy power. This gathering was and wasn't about me. It was about me as a woman who has been on a journey all her life to arrive at the moment of taking up her life's vocation. It was about every woman who has ever done the same or sought to do the same. It was about every young girl who is figuring out who she wants to be, and it is about countless generations of women still to come who will change and lead this world for the better, overcoming oppressions and embracing who they see in the mirror as living icons of the Holy One.

For a free e-copy of the Thean Psalter, send me a note with your e-mail address. If you'd like a print copy, you can send $10 and your name and address via PayPal to me at lifeloveliturgy at gmail dot com. If you self-identify as a woman and would like to take part in future gatherings of Thean Evening Prayer at Pathways of Grace, we meet every first Saturday of the month at 5:00, and you can RSVP on the Pathways of Grace meetup.com page.

Praying with the Thean Book of Psalms

8/24/2016

This morning, my older daughter and I cleared our dining room table. I invited her to bring out my lidded white candle and my sparkling, pale purple quartz. "What are you doing?" she asked as I opened the lid of the candle. I said nothing, setting the lid next to the candle, placing the quartz chunk inside it, and lighting the candle with a match. I opened my Thean Psalter to the section marked "Twenty-fourth Day: Morning Prayer." I asked my daughter if she was ready, and she said yes. I proceeded to pray the appointed psalms, 116-118, in a lively, lilting voice, making eye contact with her and slowing my words at important phrases. At the end of the final psalm, I said, "Amen," and she repeated it after me. I invited her to blow out the candle, and we collapsed in giggles as she blew and blew at the flame, to no avail. Thean light is not easily extinguished, she discovered.

After I walked my older daughter to school and drove my husband to work, my younger daughter and I met with a friend of mine who's heading off for rabbinical studies this fall. She wanted a copy of the print version of the Thean Psalter. As soon as I gave it to her, she began adding thin plastic tabs to it; she also oohed and aahed over the purple cardstock title page, the color of which was her favorite. Her excitement as she explored the Psalter's words mirrored my own, and I couldn't help grinning as I watched her. She asked which of the psalms were my favorites, and I pointed out Psalm 23, which reimagines the relationship between G-d and psalmist, moving from shepherd/sheep to mutually curious, passionate lovers who are, among other things, equals.

This Psalter represents Thean thealogical thought, which is feminist and feminine, egalitarian, pacifist, and creation-centric. Patriarchal structures/images as well as themes of violence and vengeance are challenged, eliminated, or transformed.

The e-copy of this finalized Thean Psalter is available for free to all who request it. The hard copy, which is laser-printed on high quality white paper and purple cardstock and comb-bound with a black spine in clear plastic front and back covers, is available for $10USD, payable via PayPal, with free shipping anywhere in the continental United States. I plan to make hard copies of the Thean Psalter available each first Saturday of the month at Thean Evening Prayer, where all who identify as women are welcome to pray.

Psalm 139

7/29/2016

Psalm 139

Thea, you search me out and you know me;
   you know my sitting down and my rising up;
   you discern the pattern of my thoughts.

You trace my journeys and my resting-places
   and are acquainted with all my ways.

Indeed, there is not a word on my lips
   that you, O Thea, do not know.

You journey behind, before, and beside me,
   and you lay your hand upon me in blessing.

Where can I go then from your Ruach?
    where can I flee from your presence?

If I climb to the heavens, you are there;
   if I make the grave my bed, you are there also.

If I take the wings of the morning
   and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,

Even there your hand will lead me
   and your hands hold me fast.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will cover me,
   and the light around me turn to night,”

Darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day;
   darkness and light to you are both alike.

For you yourself created my inmost parts;
   you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I will thank you because I am marvelously made;
   all your works are wonders to behold.

My body was not hidden from you,
   while I was being made in secret
   and woven in the depths.

Your eyes beheld my limbs, yet unfinished in the womb;
all of them were already written in your book;
   they were fashioned day by day,
   when as yet there was none of them.

How deep I find your thoughts, O Thea!
   how great is the sum of them!

If I were to count them, they would be more in number than the sand;
   to count them all, my life span would need to be like yours.

Search me, O Thea, and know my heart;
   lead me in your wisdom’s way.

Psalm 116

7/24/2016

Psalm 116

I love you, O Thea;
   hear the voice of my pleading;
   incline your ear to me,

For the cords of death entangle me,
   and the grip of the grave takes hold of me!

Hear me when I pray,
   “O Thea, save my life from destruction!”

I trust that you will rescue my life from death,
   my eyes from tears, and my feet from stumbling.

For gracious and kind are you;
   you are the compassionate one.

Even now, you give me a new chance to walk in your presence
   in the land of the living.

O Thea, I am yours;
   I am the daughter of your daughters.

I will fulfill my vow to walk on your path
   in the presence of all your Creatures.

While I have life, I will lift up the cup of your covenant
   and call upon you, O Thea.

Psalm 109: A Transformation

7/22/2016

I rarely post on Thealogical Lady twice in one day, but the psalms from both morning and evening prayer today merited attention. I invite you to compare the NIV version of Psalm 109 (see below on the left) with my Thean transformation of it, which I finished just today (see below on the right).

Psalm 109

My God, whom I praise,
    do not remain silent,

for people who are wicked and deceitful
    have opened their mouths against me;
    they have spoken against me with lying tongues.

With words of hatred they surround me;
    they attack me without cause.

In return for my friendship they accuse me,
    but I am a man of prayer.

They repay me evil for good,
    and hatred for my friendship.

Appoint someone evil to oppose my enemy;
    let an accuser stand at his right hand.

When he is tried, let him be found guilty,
    and may his prayers condemn him.

May his days be few;
    may another take his place of leadership.

May his children be fatherless
    and his wife a widow.

May his children be wandering beggars;
    may they be driven from their ruined homes.

May a creditor seize all he has;
    may strangers plunder the fruits of his labor.

May no one extend kindness to him
    or take pity on his fatherless children.

May his descendants be cut off,
    their names blotted out from the next generation.

May the iniquity of his fathers be remembered before the Lord;
    may the sin of his mother never be blotted out.

May their sins always remain before the Lord,
    that he may blot out their name from the earth.

For he never thought of doing a kindness,
    but hounded to death the poor
    and the needy and the brokenhearted.

He loved to pronounce a curse--
    may it come back on him.
He found no pleasure in blessing--
    may it be far from him.

He wore cursing as his garment;
    it entered into his body like water,
    into his bones like oil.

May it be like a cloak wrapped about him,
    like a belt tied forever around him.

May this be the Lord’s payment to my accusers,
    to those who speak evil of me.

But you, Sovereign Lord,
    help me for your name’s sake;
    out of the goodness of your love, deliver me.

For I am poor and needy,
    and my heart is wounded within me.

I fade away like an evening shadow;
    I am shaken off like a locust.

My knees give way from fasting;
    my body is thin and gaunt.

I am an object of scorn to my accusers;
    when they see me, they shake their heads.

Help me, Lord my God;
    save me according to your unfailing love.

Let them know that it is your hand,
    that you, Lord, have done it.

While they curse, may you bless;
    may those who attack me be put to shame,
    but may your servant rejoice.

May my accusers be clothed with disgrace
    and wrapped in shame as in a cloak.

With my mouth I will greatly extol the Lord;
    in the great throng of worshipers I will praise him.

For he stands at the right hand of the needy,
    to save their lives from those who would condemn them.

Psalm 109

Do not fail to act, O Thea,
   while the mouth of the one who hates me is opened against me.

She speaks to me with a lying tongue;
   she surrounds me with hateful words
   and fights against me without a cause.

Despite my love, she accuses me;
   but as for me, I pray that your love will envelop her.

She repays evil for good,
   and hatred for my love.

She does not remember to show mercy,
   but persecutes the poor and needy
   and seeks to destroy the brokenhearted.

She loves cursing,
but let it not come upon her;
   she takes no delight in blessing,
   but let it shower upon her.

She wears cursing like a garment,
   let it not soak into her body like water
   or into her bones like oil;

Let it not be to her like the cloak which she wraps around herself,
   and like the belt that she wears continually.

O Thea my Goddess,
   for your tender mercy’s sake, deliver her.

For she is poor and needy,
   and her heart is wounded within her.

She has faded away like a shadow when it lengthens;
   she is shaken off like a locust.

Her knees are weak,
   and her flesh is wasted and gaunt.

She has become a reproach to all around her;
   they see and shake their heads.

Help her, O Thea my Goddess;
   save her for your mercy’s sake.

She may curse, but you will bless;
   give her cause to rejoice once more.

Then I will give great thanks to you with my mouth;
   in the midst of the multitude I will praise you;

Because you stand beside the one who is most needy,
   to save her from her own stony heart.

Psalm 107 and Pelagius

7/22/2016

During my prayer today, I rewrote Psalm 107. This took me the better part of two hours--a considerable amount of time compared to what I've spent on other individual psalms. I think it required extra time because what I wanted it to say reminded me of a Christian heresy called Pelagianism, which basically says that we human beings have what we need within ourselves to attain/earn salvation--no extra help from God (via the Christ) necessary.

The difference between Christian and Thean thought here is twofold: first, according to Theanism, salvation is not something that human beings (or Creation at large) need--there is no doctrine of "Original Sin" in Theanism. Theanism claims that we are not now nor have we ever been nor could we ever be separate from Thea, even when we do wrong or commit evil deeds. Thea's love is stronger than any individual's or community's ability to do wrong--Thea's love, which binds all Creatures together as her Sacred Body, can never be torn apart.

Second, according to Theanism, all Creatures are Thea's Incarnation. Whereas Christianity requires God's Word to be made incarnate in a single, sinless man who is sacrificed by death on a cross for the world's salvation, Theanism says that we--all of us--are Thea. Therefore we are individually and collectively all we will ever need to fulfill our ultimate purpose, which is to love and bear witness to one another, particularly by answering the passion that stirs deepest within our hearts, no matter what obstacles lay before or around or beneath or behind us. When we experience fear, doubt, or distress, as the people in Psalm 107 do, we only need to remember who we are: Thea's Sacred Body, capable of fulfilling our destiny to love if we can just turn inward to remember that love is the stuff we're made of.

Psalm 107

Give thanks to Thea, for her love is a holy flame
   that burns brightly within her Creatures.

Some wander in the desert,
   finding no way to a city where their hearts might dwell.

They hunger and thirst;
   their flesh languishes.

Then they look within themselves for Thea’s help,
   and their divine fire melts their icy fear;

Thea thus puts their feet on a straight path
   to go to a city where they might dwell.

Some sit in darkness and deep gloom,
   bound fast in misery and iron;

They are humbled with difficult work;
   they stumble, and find none to help.

Then they look within themselves for Thea’s help,
   and their divine fire melts their icy fear;

Thea thus leads them out of darkness and deep gloom
   and breaks their bonds asunder.

Some go down to the sea in ships
   and ply their trade in deep waters;

Then a stormy wind rises up,
   which tosses high the waves of the sea.

They mount up to the skies and fall back to the depths;
   their hearts freeze because of their peril.

They reel and stagger like drunkards
   and are at their wits’ end.

Then they look within themselves for Thea’s help,
   and their divine fire melts their icy fear;

Thea thus stills the storm to a whisper
   and she brings them to the harbor they are bound for.

Thea’s love changes deserts into pools of water
   and dry land into water-springs.

She settles the hungry there,
   and they find a city to dwell in.

They sow fields, and plant vineyards,
   and bring in a fruitful harvest.

The wise will ponder these things,
   and consider well the holy fire of Thea that burns within.

Psalm 106

7/21/2016

Ten months ago today, I wrote a post detailing my frustrations with the characterization of God in Psalm 106. I rediscovered that post just now after transforming that very psalm. This is what Thea looks like to me. ♥

Psalm 106

We give thanks to you, O Thea,
   for your love for your Creatures is unending.

When we were enslaved we did not consider your marvelous works,
nor remember the abundance of your love;
   we defied you, believing not even you could help us.

But you set us free,
   making your power known.

You rebuked the sea, and it dried up,
   and you led us through the deep as through a desert.

You delivered us from the hand of those who hated us
   and empowered us to escape from those who would have held us captive.

But we soon forgot your deeds
   and did not take time to discern your wisdom for ourselves.

A craving seized us in the wilderness,
   and we put you to the test in the desert.

We envied Miriam in the camp,
   Miriam, your chosen one.

We forgot you, O Thea,
   you who had liberated us.

We grumbled in our tents
   and would not listen to your voice.

Then we were overtaken by the hand of our enemy
   and those who hated us ruled over us.

Our enemies oppressed us,
   and we were humbled under their hand.

Time after time you delivered us from our enslavement,
   but we forgot your love and sank into traps of our own making.

Nevertheless, you saw our distress
   when we voiced our lamentation.

You remembered your love, even when we forgot it,
   and lifted us up once more.

Blessed be you, O Thea, author of Creation,
   and may the blessing of your love ever be upon us!

Psalm 78

7/15/2016

This is a psalm that originally spoke of the stubborn hearts and repeated rebelling of God's people, despite God's goodness and generosity. In the original psalm, God grew angry and finally allowed the people to die off to see if it would make any difference with them.

I believe my rendering of this psalm speaks to a Thean worldview, one in which we as Creatures still rebel and in which God still resists that rebellion, but in which rebellion, resistance, and resolution are imagined in a very different way.

Psalm 78

Hear my teaching, my sisters,
   incline your ears to the words of my mouth.

I will open my mouth in a parable;
   I will declare the mysteries of ancient times.

That which we have heard and known,
and what our foremothers have told us,
   we will not hide from their children.

We will recount to generations to come
   the liberating deeds and loving power of Thea.

She established wisdom,
which she gave us to teach our children;

That the generations to come might know,
and the children yet unborn;
   that they in their turn might tell it to their children;

So that they might discover their divine identity
   and live as icons of her in the world.

She worked marvels in the sight of our foremothers,
   in the land where they were once slaves.

She split open the sea and let them pass through;
   she made the waters stand up like walls.

She led them with a cloud by day,
   and all the night through with a glow of fire.

She split the hard rocks in the wilderness
   and gave them drink as from the great deep.

She brought streams out of the cliff,
   and the waters gushed out like rivers.

And she said to them, “This!
   This is what I want you to do for your fellow Creatures!”

But they strayed from the path she had given them,
   rebelling in the desert against her.

They tested her in their hearts,
   demanding food for their craving.

They railed against her and said,
   “Can you set a table in the wilderness?

True, she struck the rock, the waters gushed out, and the gullies overflowed;
   but are you able to give bread
   or to provide meat for her creatures?”

When Thea heard this,
   a fire ignited in her heart,

For they had no faith in Thea;
   how could they possibly have faith in themselves?

So she commanded the clouds above
   and opened the doors of heaven.

She rained down manna upon them to eat
   and gave them grain from heaven.

So mortals ate the bread of angels;
   she provided for them food enough.

She caused the east wind to blow in the heavens
   and led out the south wind by her might.

She rained down flesh upon them like dust
   and winged birds like the sand of the sea.

She let it fall in the midst of their camp
   and round about their dwellings.

So they are and were well filled,
   for she gave them what they craved.

But they did not believe in her promise,
   that her power to work miracles was also their power.

They remained steadfast in their stubbornness
   and had no faith in her wonderful works.

Then Thea woke as though from sleep,
   like a warrior refreshed with wine.

She set her eyes on her Creatures,
   whom she had always loved;

And she whispered in their hearts once more,
   that they might recognize their true calling, their deepest yearning,
   and become her miracle-working hands and feet and heart in the world.

Thean Evening Prayer

7/2/2016

I am pleased to invite all who identify as women to monthly Thean Evening Prayer, hosted by Pathways of Grace, beginning September 3, 2016, at 5:00pm. We will meet every month thereafter each first Saturday of the month.

Thean Evening Prayer is a prayer experience designed to facilitate a warm, safe, intimate encounter with the Divine Feminine. Patterned after Christian evening prayer, the texts include psalms rewritten in the voice of women with feminine names, titles and pronouns for God(dess). My hope is that this prayer experience will not only embrace hearts and challenge intellects, but honor whole bodies by stimulating the many senses. All who self-identify as women are welcome. Prayer will be followed by a light potluck supper—all are invited to bring a bite to share. Space is limited to twenty people per gathering, so I invite you to reserve a spot here at Meetup.com.

If you have any questions, you are welcome to contact me by visiting my contact page or by e-mailing me at lifeloveliturgy@gmail.com.

In the wake of Orlando

6/17/2016

As a cisgender, heterosexual, white person, I have taken the words of my LGBTQ+ friends to heart over the last week and quieted myself so that they and their community could be heard in the wake of the devastation at Pulse in Orlando, Florida.

As a minister, however, I also have a responsibility not to keep silent forever, because my silence might imply my endorsement or approval of the actions of the man who shot and killed/wounded over a hundred members of the Latinx LGBTQ community.

Let me be clear: it is not the will or desire of God (whom I call Thea) that LGBTQ people should be targets of violence. It is not Thea's will that LGBTQ people should in any way change or hide or be ashamed of their sexual identity. Individuals and communities that intentionally marginalize/persecute the LGBTQ community for their sexuality are absolutely wrong to do so, full-stop. These persecutors are the ones who need to change, not the ones they persecute.

I mourn for the precious lives lost and those that were forever changed in this mass shooting. I also mourn for the shooter, whose life was lost fighting the wrong fight. I pray for peace, solace, and love to envelop the LGBTQ community so they might heal and be strengthened to be who they are with enormous pride, and I pray for compassion, a desire for mutual understanding, and forgiveness among all of us, because we could all use much more of that. As for me, I have spent this week letting my LGBTQ friends know that I love them and I'm thinking of them, and I've also spent this week lovingly communicating with those who would promote marginalization of another group, those who follow Islam, in order to show that fundamentalist extremism does not equate or speak for religion as a whole. I've spent this week lifting up those in politics who can make a difference in keeping guns out of the wrong hands. I've done what I could, and I will continue to do what I can to ensure that a tragedy like this is forever a thing of the past. I pray that you and all of us will do the same--not just pray, but take tangible steps to prevent this kind of tragedy from ever taking place again.

I came across this psalm in my prayer today, and it seems to fit:

Psalm 79

O Thea, those who do evil have come among us;
   they have made Creation a pile of rubble.

They have shed blood like water throughout all of Creation,
   and there was no one to bury their victims.

Help them and us, O Thea! Change their hearts and ours;
   let your compassion be swift to meet us all and spread among us.

Help us, O Thea;
   deliver us and teach us your forgiveness,
   that we may taste and see the sweetness of your mercy.

O Thea, let the sorrowful sighing of those in chains come before you,
   and by your great might give hope to those who are condemned to die.

We will give you thanks forever
   and show forth your praise from age to age.

Thean Evening Prayer

6/11/2016

I am happy to announce for my readers in the Phoenix area that I will be collaborating with Pathways of Grace to offer Thean Evening Prayer starting this autumn (Thea willing!). I'm still in the process of discerning exactly what this will look like, but I envision evening prayer after the pattern of Christian vespers (using Thean and other texts focused on the women and the Divine Feminine) followed by a potluck supper.

I will announce the firm details when I have them, hopefully within the next week. In the meantime, I ask for your prayers and invite you to share this news with anyone who may be interested.

Who is an icon of you?

6/2/2016

In my prayers today, I came across Psalm 15, which asks an important question:

Psalm 15

Thea, who is an icon of you?
   Who reveals your holy Body?

Each of us—whether blameless or guilty,
   whether she speaks the truth from her heart or deceives;

Whether there is guile upon her tongue;
whether she offers evil or kindness to her friend;
   whether she heaps generosity or contempt upon her neighbor;

Whether she has sworn to do no wrong
   or makes a vow and then takes back her word.

We are, each of us, icons of you,
because we are your living Body, broken, holy, and ever healing.

What a marvel, that you should knit us together in your love,
   sustaining us for love’s sake alone.

Blessed be Thea, our author and our sacred self,
   now and forever. Amen, amen.

The Creation Song by Shiloh Sophia McCloud / www.shilohsophiastudios.com

Evildoers and God's Body

5/19/2016

Psalm 94 came up in my morning prayer today, and it gave me pause.

I noted these lines first:

As often as I said, "My foot has slipped,"
your love, O Thea, upheld me.

And then I noted these:

Can a corrupt community have any part with you,
one which frames evil into wisdom?

The difficulty I have with this psalm is that every person who prays the psalms does evil at some time or another--and yet Thea upholds them. Many people point fingers at communities that frame evil into wisdom, but those finger-pointing people do evil, too, as do their own communities. We are all broken--we are all trying.

I believe that all of Creation is Thea's--God's--Sacred Body, and yet we are mean and spiteful. We do wrong. We act cruelly--on purpose, and by carelessness. Sometimes, even often, we are good, forbearing, and virtuous, but no one is any of those things at every moment.

How can Thea get behind any of us when we are kind one moment and hypocritical the next?

And yet--Thea upholds each one of us. She loves us without condition. We are each part of her, the stuff of the stars, the evolution of billions of years of her creative, imaginative love.

This psalm reminds me of all that I have ever done wrong and all I have ever attempted to do right. It also reminds me that Thea values me--and the person I despise, just as much as the person I love--no matter what.

Her enveloping love is scandalous by the standards of human interaction. We want justice, not overwhelming, unwavering love. And yet Thea gives us more than we think we or others deserve. She's more radical than any one of us in her lovingness.

I sit here, pondering the enormity of her, of all of us who are her Sacred Body, and I am overwhelmed. She loves me, and him, and her, and you.

What if I loved like that--even a little bit? Not in order to be recognized as someone special or good, but just for the sake of loving, just like she loves us for the sake of loving?

Maybe I'd judge the evil-doing of others less readily. Maybe I'd learn greater compassion. Maybe I'd see the holy light of Thea that dwells in me in the eyes and hearts of those I find difficult to be around. Maybe I'd be tapping into the love that brought me into being and which sustains me from moment to moment. Maybe I'd be learning to recognize my own small part in the divine Self.

And maybe I'd get to taste what it is like to be the Great Love that binds us all together. ♥

Feast of Holy Ruach

5/15/2016

Today Christians celebrate Pentecost, the day on which the Spirit of God descended on a room full of Jesus' followers, giving them the ability to speak with tongues of fire and be understood wherever they proclaimed the good news.

It seems fitting that it should be this day, the third day after I vowed to begin a nine-month thealogical journey, that I should write again. Spirit, or Holy Ruach, has come over me in a new way, inviting me to give birth to something new, something holy, and as with any pregnancy, I will not know the face of this new presence until I have given birth to it.

Today psalms 71 and 73 spoke to me especially, but I will only quote psalm 73 here:

Whom have I in Creation but you?
and having you I desire no thing, no one else.

As a Christian, I yearned for something, deep in my belly, and I came close, so close, to it many times. As a Thean, however, I believe that what I've sought my whole life has been with me all along, and I finally have eyes and arms to see and embrace her.

I look forward to seeing how this nine-month journey unfolds, in all its challenges and blessings.